I arrived in Vancouver by train in the morning as the sun came up, and found a crumpled 5 dollar bill in my back pocket. I was 28, hung over and in a new city, but I wasn’t broke.

You could go to the welfare office, get a check and pay for a hotel room all in Vancouver’s east end, all in the same day.

I did that.

The Hotel Manager was a German named Frank with a severe limp and major anger issues on East Hastings Street.

My room was in the 3rd floor and there were about 200 rooms on 4 floors. There was a sink and mirror as soon as I opened the door and the light forced the cockroaches to scatter.

I had never seen a cockroach before. Things were looking up. A double bed sat just beyond the sink and a window to a back alley world beyond that… I had arrived on skid row!

The first night I got quite drunk on the few dollars I had left over from what Frank the angry German didn’t take for rent; and made a speech to the ‘COCKROACHES’

“I will be on the side of the room with the bed… You guys can have the sink and I will leave some food for you on the floor under the sink. Cross this fucking line!”

I made several lines with my hands and gestures. (drunk)

“And it will be war. Don’t cross the line and we will be OK. “

That was in October 1985. I left skid row in March 1896 just before Expo 86 began.

No cockroaches were harmed during my stay.

Change seems to be in the air, standing by in the laneway, waiting; The temperature is supposed to rise today. Spring is in the air?

The moon is full and a skunk runs down the opposite sidewalk past where I am parked and after a brief journey, turns and B-line’s towards me.

This causes a certain sense of attention and urgency; for just a second before he turns again, returning from where he first came into view… must have forgotten something.

It’s quiet now in the cold shadows of the dark morning air. It is too early for most to be up. There are exceptions, me and the skunk. Then Tom arrives with Harrry, who is asleep and swaddled. Then Yvette arrives and we are off in search of the Spotlight somewhere…

Alone now; the sky is lighter and I am waiting for my daughter to awaken to call her and ask her if she remembers her dreams. Sometimes she answers, often not.

I just want to hear her voice and let her know she is loved.

The difference between A.A. and all the other self help groups is…

The self help groups suggest that you work on your character defects in order to help you quit drinking.

A.A. suggests you quit drinking to find out what your character defects are.

I’ve been awake for hours before the sun lights up the sky. Today it’s mainly shadows and greys in the cold winter air… and then the sun breaks through!

This is where the one day at a time comes into focus.

Now… when I need to work in these ungodly hours and depend on others to do the same for child care.

There are angels in this world and my kid is being cared for by one.

I’ve been reading posts about some people and their struggles with sobriety.

Being 17 years plus sober, sometimes these reminders from others helps put things in perspective.

I quit alcohol, cocaine and cigarettes all on the same day in 2004, September 1st. I had been trying for forever.

The first week was rough, but things eventually got better. I went to treatment, A.A. meetings, got a sponsor and did the work.

A turning point for me was reading the personality traits of the alcoholic at the top of page 123 of the 12 and 12 book of A.A. It read that the alcoholic was childish, emotionally sensitive and Idealistic.

That was when I knew for sure I was alcoholic. That was the best description of me I had ever encountered.

I was 45 and maybe had the maturity of a 15 year old. Sobering thoughts!

This was the choice. Grow up or don’t. For me the choice was easy.

The rose’s came in bunches…

The love was soft and kind.

The baby grew and said some words;

And then she spoke her mind.

Not everyone is happy.

And some are quite insane.

But it’s when the roses are in bloom.

That we tolerate the pain.

Roses are red.

Winter is cold.

Romance has died.

Or so I was told.

At the battle of sexes.

In the wild wild west.

Somewhere near Texas.

Where Daddy knew best.

The battle still rages.

The way it begun.

With the children all singing.

“Run Daddy Run!”

Charles used to say that he didn’t really like people all that much.

I thought he was just trying to be controversial or shockingly funny.

I was younger then and perhaps more optimistic than my old friend Charles, however I do get it now.

There was something very appealing to me about someone who knew themselves that well, along with the courage to be honest about it.

Charles told me, “Someday you are going to be able to laugh at yourself. When that happens… You are going to be ok and you will know that you are miles ahead of most of them.”

We would speak most weeks on the the telephone until we didn’t. His phraseology was spectacular!

Charles would throw away lines like old bread.

He referred to the anonymous people he met in the rooms of alcoholics anonymous as ‘The Muckers, the Fuckers and the Amanda’s.’

His views on life were outspoken and his.

He asked me once if I heard the pop sound?

I asked him what was that?

He said, “The sound of yer head coming out of yer arse.”

I miss my old friends.

I got it all. Everything I wanted. Those words stuck in my head.

Standing tall. Everything I wanted. Remind me what I said?

I saw you. Everything I wanted. Can I have you too?

I forget sometimes. Everything I wanted. Sure is one strange brew.

I got it all. Everything I wanted. Sometimes dreams come true.

I got it all. Everything I wanted. I was young and had that too.